


Legacy

by PixelByPixel



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Cameo: Sister Maggie, F/M, Humor, Ice Cream, Matt and Elektra are little shits, OC, Pregnancy, Too many mentions to list, cameo: foggy nelson, hopefully, mild canon typical violence, missing child, mostly light but not too fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 21:14:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17211065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PixelByPixel/pseuds/PixelByPixel
Summary: Matt and Elektra reproduce. It goes about as you might think.A series of vignettes before, during, and after Elektra's pregnancy.





	Legacy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [titC](https://archiveofourown.org/users/titC/gifts).



> Legacy. What is a legacy?  
> It’s planting seeds in a garden you never get to see.  
> -Hamilton, [The World Was Wide Enough](https://genius.com/Leslie-odom-jr-lin-manuel-miranda-and-original-broadway-cast-of-hamilton-the-world-was-wide-enough-lyrics)
> 
> For [titC](https://archiveofourown.org/users/titC/). Baby Jack! Sorry about the Hamilton reference, but at least there are no cats. ;)
> 
> Thanks to [flutterflap](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flutterflap/) for the beta. <3
> 
> This fills my [12 Days of MattElektra](https://fadedtoblue.tumblr.com/post/180008518352/announcing-our-holiday-event-twelve-days-of) prompt for day 10, "we're together," and (with a stretch) my [Daredevil Bingo](http://daredevilbingo.tumblr.com/) spot for "tiny dinosaurs."

Elektra Natchios shifts on the hard plastic chair, then nudges Matthew’s calf with the tip of one leather boot. “This is all your fault.”

“How?” His reply is amused, likely more than the situation warrants. “How can whatever this is _possibly_ be all my fault?”

“Murdock.”

“Okay, true.” Matthew’s voice is barely above a whisper, and full of suppressed laughter. “But, the way I see it, that would make it _half_ my fault. You were there, too, after all.”

She’s not ready to concede his point, though she makes an amused noise to tell him that she’s listening, and entertained.

Matthew continues, sounding more serious, “Last time, that thing with the sais at the playground, that wasn’t my fault.”

“The plural of sai is also sai,” Elektra says crisply, though she can tell by the way his lips curve that he sees her words for the teasing they are. “And, as I said, it is _all_ your fault. Murdock curiosity led to the issue with the sai. Really, I should have known this would happen. Your mother warned me.”

Matthew leans in close, one hand snaking around Elektra’s waist. “Tell me you regret it,” he murmurs, his breath tickling her ear in a way that she finds rather pleasant.

She relents. “You know I don’t,” she whispers into the pulse point below his ear, and he all but purrs in response as she stops talking and uses her lips for other purposes.

Of course, it is at that moment that the door behind them opens. Elektra, though, takes her time in disengaging from Matthew, the better to show the newcomer just what to expect from Elektra and Matthew.

The man clears his throat as he makes his way to sit behind the desk before them. “Mr. and Mrs. Murdock, if you -”

“Oh, I’m certainly not a Murdock,” Elektra corrects promptly. “The world would not survive such an occurrence.”

The man sighs and fumbles with the folder in his hand, scanning its contents. “Mr. Murdock and Ms. Natchios,” he amends, sounding tired.

Matthew sits up, looking deceptively like he’s Taking Things Very Seriously, and the man continues, “I wanted to share an assignment your son turned in earlier this week.”

He pulls out a paper, one of those sheets where half the page is blank and the other has lines to guide printing.

Elektra looks.

She carefully does not smile, but she feels her heart surge with love and pride. What else could she and Matthew produce but a child like _this_?

Matthew clears his throat, and she narrates, “It’s a drawing, a figure in quite a lot of red, looks as if it is holding its hands over its head. There is more red on what I assume is the ground. And the caption beneath reads -” Matthew will no doubt hear the almost-laughter in her voice, and she does not look at the man behind the desk. “My favorite color is red because they can’t tell how much you’re bleeding.”

Matthew makes an odd choking sound, then hums in an attempt to cover his reaction.

“His penmanship is really improving,” Elektra adds. “Thank you for bringing this to our attention. We’ll be sure he’s aware that we know how hard he’s working.”

“Mrs. Murdock - Ms. Natchios,” he corrects, possibly as he sees Elektra’s eyebrows incline. “This drawing and the caption concerned our staff. We’re worried about your son. Is there something we should know? Anything going on at home?”

Elektra’s smile is sharp and full of teeth, daring him to find fault in how she parents her child. “Everything is fine at home. Brilliant, in fact.”

“Mr. Murdock, do you have anything to add?” It's almost a plea.

Matthew looked to be giving the question all due consideration. “Can we take the assignment?” he asks finally. “I’d like to put it on the fridge. Maybe show his grandma.”

“Oh, she’ll adore it,” Elektra agrees.

The sputtering sound made by the man behind the desk is such that Elektra doesn’t feel the need to narrate his facial expression for Matthew. Instead, she just takes the paper from his slackened grasp. “Thank you. Since we’re here now, we’d like to take Jack home with us. Save us coming back at pickup time, since it’s so soon.”

The man concedes defeat and makes the call to summon their boy, who is all gap-toothed delight to see them despite a certain wariness for the school administrator.

“Am I in trouble?” Jack asks as they walk down the steps leading to the school, having claimed Matthew’s left hand and Elektra’s right. “I don’t think Mr. Jenkins likes me.”

Jenkins. Elektra tucks away that name for future reference. “Of course you’re not. He wanted to show us one of your assignments.”

“Mom says your printing has gotten a lot better,” Matthew adds, and Jack grins.

“We should get ice cream!” he announces.

How can Elektra say no to that? Ice cream, after all, has been a source of bonding since before Jack was born, a fact he knows and uses to his advantage. The three of them turn toward Jack’s favorite ice cream shop, their strides punctuated by Jack’s repeated demands that they swing him into the air. He’s getting a little big for that, but Elektra and Matthew, knowing he’ll soon be _too_ big, indulge him.

“Hey, Daddy?”

“Yeah, Jackie-boy?”

“You’ve got lipstick under your ear.”

Jack giggles and casts a grin at Elektra. Matthew first attempts to wipe away the lipstick, and then, as Jack carols that, _no, it’s still there, Daddy_ , shrugs and gives it up as a lost cause.

It’s hardly the first time that he’s wandered around Hell’s Kitchen like that, and he knows it.

* * *

Later, when Jack has gone to sleep, Elektra gleefully relates the school administrator’s gape-mouthed look of shock to Matthew, and he frowns, his expression gone reflective in a way that it wasn’t in the school office. “Should we talk to Jack about it?”

“Well, we did,” she says, covering his hand with hers. “His penmanship really is better. No backward letters this time. That’s why we got the ice cream.”

“I mean -” Matthew sighs. “It’s fine with us, talking about blood, but the school clearly has issues with it. I don’t want them calling Child Protective Services on us.”

There had been a near miss at Jack’s preschool when he’d related a particularly vivid story about seeing men punching each other. Mercifully, the elderly teacher’s aide had grown up in the Kitchen and was familiar with the family, and so knew to ask Jack the right questions to determine that he’d been at watching a match at Fogwell’s with his father.

“I know. They won’t.” Elektra will make sure of that.

Matthew is silent for a moment, then smiles, his expression a little rueful. “We always said that we weren’t going to train him.”

“I know,” Elektra repeats, her voice gentler now. “And we don’t.” Matthew, ever the lawyer, stirs in argument, and she amends, “Not the way we were trained, at least.”

“That doesn’t stop him from doing dive rolls down the hallway.” But Matthew sounds proud when he says it.

Elektra draws him closer. “Well, of course,” she says. “He’s _ours_.”

After all, their boy is all eyes and a fast learner. While Matthew and Elektra don’t take him out fighting crime, of course, Jack has been to Fogwell’s with them as more than just a spectator, and even has his own tiny pair of boxing gloves. The older boxers love to “spar” with Battlin’ Jack’s grandbaby, enacting melodramatic death scenes at his lightest tap.

Elektra doesn’t necessarily like that, mind, as it gives the boy an unrealistic expectation of his own abilities, but Matthew always says to let the realism wait a year or two. “Maybe you can crush his dreams when he’s seven,” he teases.

Matthew is nearly as bad as the boxers, though he at least holds up his hands for Jack to punch, and plays games with him where Jack ducks his father’s punches, and a version of hide and seek that involves being quiet _no matter what_.

The preschool called them once in a panic, as Jack had hidden so successfully during a class game that nobody could find him, and the teachers hadn’t known about the code word to say when it was safe to come out.

They had gotten ice cream that day, certainly.

No, they’re not training him, not specifically, but Jack is still learning skills that Elektra hopes he will never need.

She’s fairly certain he will, though. He is, after all, a Murdock. But she had known what she was getting into when she and Matthew decided to have a child, and, really, it had started the day Jack was born.

* * *

Matthew thinks she’s sleeping, no doubt; a fair assumption, after the day she has had. She doesn’t move from her spot on the bed, keeps her breathing slow and even, the better to stop her heartbeat from giving her away.

He’s picked up the baby and they are sitting together in the inevitable hospital rocking chair. Matthew sets the chair to rocking in a gentle back and forth, then cradles the baby against his chest. His hand shakes for a moment, and then he reaches feather-light fingers to trace Jack’s face.

Elektra has never seen Matthew’s blindness as a reason for pity, and she still doesn’t. Just this once, though, she wishes…

Well. Matthew will see the baby in his own way. His touch lingers on Jack’s lips, and then traces his limbs. All as it should be, yes. He encounters a small hand and his brows lower.

Is he upset that Jack is already making a fist? But, no, he gently teases open the baby’s hand and re-forms the fist so that Jack’s thumb is on the outside. “Like that,” he whispers, and Elektra is certain that she has never loved him more than she does in this moment.

That must be reflected in her heartbeat, for Matthew looks over and offers a sheepish smile. “You’re up. I was just…”

Elektra knows what he isn’t saying. “That’s not training him. He has to know how to throw a punch without breaking his thumb. All children should be able to defend themselves.”

Elektra is aware that her opinion of standard child behavior is probably a bit askew, but she is fairly certain that children, even normal children whose last name is not Murdock, occasionally punch things.

Matthew gets to his feet, so carefully, and comes to perch on the edge of Elektra’s bed. “Yeah,” he replies. “But it doesn’t have to be today. He can learn to walk first, then figure out punching.”

“That seems reasonable,” Elektra agrees.

There’s a gentle rap at the door, and Elektra looks over to see Maggie, her… well, nun-in-law comes the closest. Maggie and Matthew have formed something of a relationship over the years, but Elektra has kept more of a distance. Of course, maybe that’s easier to do when their interactions have consisted more of stitches and gauze than of family dinners.

At this moment, though, as Maggie looks at her boy holding _his_ boy, her heart in her eyes, Elektra softens a little toward the nun.

When it is to Elektra that Maggie first speaks, asking if it’s too soon to visit, Elektra warms further.

“Of course not,” Elektra replies.

Naturally, Matthew is all smiles. It makes him look younger, like when they first met. Fatherhood agrees with him.

“Come meet him,” Matthew urges, though Maggie opts for the rocker instead of joining the family on the bed. Matthew makes his painstaking way over and settles the baby in Maggie’s arms. “This is Jack. Jack, here’s your grandma.”

Maggie, who was clearly already in love with the baby, has tears in her eyes as she looks up, fumbling to grasp Matthew’s hand for a moment before returning her attention to Jack. “Jack. Oh, he’s just perfect.”

Elektra can’t find it in her to disagree. And while this was certainly not an expected goal when she and Matthew decided that the time was right for a child, maybe Jack will help bring Maggie and Matthew closer. Jack’s relationship with his grandmother, after all, will be uncomplicated by all the hurt and loss of the past.

No, Jack is the future, potential and hope wrapped in an adorable little package, though one, Elektra notices, who has grown a bit ripe.

Maggie seems to realize it at the same time, and laughs as she passes the baby back to Matthew. There is a little banter between them, and in the end it is Matthew who takes Jack to the changing table.

Elektra sits up to watch.

This is going to be fun.

* * *

So, yes, Jack has been a source of delight since the start, but Elektra has always known what she was getting herself into. Not long after she and Matthew started trying - a task to which Matthew applied himself assiduously - Elektra ran into a spot of trouble while Matthew was at work, and ended up seeking out Maggie’s tender mercies.

 

Elektra holds still and doesn’t make eye contact while Maggie stitches the slash along her shoulder. It’s an awkward spot, but she’s come to trust the nun’s sure hands. They usually stick to pleasantries, despite Maggie’s tendency toward tart comments. Her barbs are usually aimed at Matthew, though Elektra always hears the love behind the sharp words. Elektra rarely comes on her own, after all; when Matthew is with her, he serves as a buffer.

So it is with some surprise that she hears Maggie’s words, personal as they are.

“Matthew told me about the baby. That you’re trying.”

Elektra isn’t exactly surprised that Matthew told. His delight over the whole situation, even aside from the attempts, has been such that Maggie probably guessed that something was going on.

“Yes,” Elektra replies, and if her voice is tense, Maggie can attribute it to the needle passing through her skin.

“Have you thought about what that’s going to mean for… all this?”

All this, presumably, being the activities that result in her needing Maggie’s ministrations.

Well. Crime is hardly going to stop because she and Matthew want to bring a new life into the world.

Elektra smiles, a tight expression that shows no teeth. “Well, I’ll have to get one of those baby carriers.” She gestures vaguely to her chest, and Maggie makes a soft, amused sound. Good. She sees that Elektra is joking, despite her deadpan tone. Elektra adds, “We’ll take it as it comes, I suppose. There will be a time when leaping between rooftops will be unrealistic for me, so I suppose we’ll have to find someone to watch Matthew’s back.”

She knows, after all, that Matthew will be unlikely to stop his crime-fighting efforts, even for her, and she has accepted that she will eventually have to take a break. Even if she is willing to risk their hypothetical future child, she knows that Matthew would likely have strong opinions on the matter. But she doesn’t want him going out alone, despite his protestations that he was fine without her.

Clearly he wasn’t, foolish man.

They’ve talked about it, a little. The bulk of the hard part, of course, is going to fall on Elektra, and she absolutely plans to milk that for all that it’s worth. Poor Matthew won’t know what hit him.

She smiles at the thought.

“Okay, done,” Maggie says, giving the bandaged shoulder a final pat. “I’d say take it easy, but I assume you won’t listen.”

“No,” Elektra agrees, though not without another smile.

Maggie gives Elektra a long look, then says, “If anybody can handle raising a Murdock boy, it’s you.”

It doesn’t quite feel like one of those _may you have a child just like you_ sorts of curses, though in this case it would be a child just like Matthew. Elektra observes, “It hasn’t even been conceived. And it might be a girl.”

But Maggie is shaking her head, amused. “It would only be right for Matthew to have a little boy.” She looks away, then, and her voice is a little intense as she says, “After the baby is here - or any time, really, but especially then - if you need anything, you call me. _Anything_ ,” she repeats, finally looking over, her eyes a little too bright.

“Of course,” Elektra agrees. Matthew has told her something of his mother’s situation when he was a baby; she sees guilt in Maggie’s offer, and a desire to do better.

Maggie smiles, then, shaking off her seriousness of a moment before. “Oh, and good luck with the baby-making,” she adds. “I’ll be sure to have Matthew keep me up to date on any progress.”

Maggie’s sudden, wicked smile suggests that she means that literally, and Elektra laughs, delighted by the thought of Matthew squirming under detailed interrogation about his sex life from his mother, the nun.

“He did tell you,” Elektra says, all innocence. “It seems to me that it’s only fair that you get updates.”

If they were two different people, they probably would hug, delighting in the impending torment of the man they both love. As it is, they smile, and Elektra murmurs her thanks for the medical attention before slipping off into the sunny New York afternoon.

* * *

The baby carrier actually does put in an appearance as a shower gift from Franklin and Marci, though only Marci is present at the party. A soft toy dinosaur is tucked into the carrier: Franklin’s contribution, reports Marci.

“Thank you so much for the gift,” she tells Franklin, when she stops by the law office a few days later. “It will be just perfect for when Matthew and I take the baby with us in the evenings.”

“In the…” Franklin’s eyes widen delightfully, and he rounds on Matthew. “Matt, Matty, tell me that you’re not going to take your firstborn with you when you’re out fighting crime.”

Matthew, bless him, actually hesitates over his answer, though he relents in the face of Franklin’s panicked sputtering. “Of course not, Foggy. We may even take a little break right after he’s born.”

“Really?” Franklin asks, looking even more poleaxed than he did at the mention of taking the baby out to fight crime. “Like, an actual break? No grievous bodily harm, no blood?”

“Franklin, you really do seem to have a low opinion of Matthew’s fighting skills,” Elektra observes, running a hand lightly down Matthew’s back.

“I didn’t mean that,” Franklin protests, though Matthew just looks amused by it all. “And come on! Tell me there’s no blood.”

“Sometimes there’s blood,” Matthew concedes. “But I hear that there’s maybe not going to be a lot of sleeping, and that seems like it would be a bad thing to combine with taking down bad guys. Some of the others said they would step things up a little. Jessica said to call it her baby gift.”

Jessica had not been at the shower, though Elektra imagines that it only would have been improved by her presence.

Karen had been in charge.

There had been _party games_.

“Huh.” Franklin seems surprised, but pleased. “Maybe you’ll get through this parenting thing after all. And, hey, any time you need a babysitter…”

“Thanks. Let’s let him get born first,” Matthew suggests, getting to his feet.

“Let’s go for ice cream,” Elektra suggests, lifting a hand in farewell to Franklin.

“Again?” Matthew grins as Elektra nudges his ribs with her elbow. “Oh, what I meant to say was of _course_ we’ll go for ice cream.”

“Of course.”

“Again.”

* * *

Elektra easily clears the distance between the two buildings despite her increased bulk. Despite that, she sees Matthew reach out as if to catch her.

“I’m fine,” she says through clenched teeth.

“You are,” Matthew agrees, though it feels like he’s humoring her. Maybe he isn't; maybe he's absolutely certain in her ability to jump a meter. But it  _feels_ like he's humoring her.

She’s wearing the body armor that Matthew’s strange little friend made her. She’s taking it easy, when she can. But when she and Matthew heard about a ring of child traffickers operating near the Kitchen, she knew that he would want to handle it, and she wanted to be there.

And, really, Elektra is still faster than Matthew, or so she’s telling herself. It’s not like he’s tailing her for her safety or anything. Still, it’s because she is first that she finds the criminal before Matthew does, and takes him to the ground in a tackle that makes Matthew suck in his breath.

She’s fine. So is the baby. It’s barely large enough to make much of a bump, though Matthew was all hands when he first noticed her abdomen rounding.

Well, he’s all hands anyway, which is the way she likes it. Usually. Just not when his hands are pulling her off a child trafficker.

“Thanks, buddy,” the man breathes. “Jeez, lady, you could stand to lose a few.”

The sound Matthew’s fist makes against the smaller man’s face is quite satisfying. More satisfying is when Elektra hits him herself. The man struggles to his feet and turns on her, fist upraised, then recoils when he gets a good look at her.

“Wait, are you -?” The man makes a curving gesture with one hand, over his own abdomen. “What are you doing jumping on rooftops when you’ve got a bun in the oven?”

Elektra rounds on Matthew. “Don’t you say a word,” she says, upon seeing his barely-hidden smirk. “The criminal element doesn’t have a say in what I do.”

“Buddy, I wouldn’t let my lady jump around on roofs if she was having my kid,” the criminal persists.

Matthew is wise enough to reply, “She’s her own lady.” He gestures to Elektra in invitation, and she hits the man once more, her blow placed to knock him out. He crumples to the ground, and Matthew drags him to a guardrail and pulls out some zip ties.

“He could tell that I’m pregnant,” Elektra says, almost offended. After all, the rooftop is dark and the body armor is concealing… or so she thought.

“Well, yeah,” Matthew replies, clearly trying not to sound smug.

“I can still do anything I could do before I was pregnant.”

“You can.”

He’s not patronizing her; he clearly means it. That, or his sense of self-preservation is unusually strong.

She isn’t ready to stop yet, not knowing how much their life will change in just a few short months. But she knows that the time is coming, and soon.

* * *

Of course, the incident at the school really _was_ all Matthew’s fault. Well, seventy-five percent Matthew’s fault, fifteen percent small child curiosity, five percent clinging to the past, and five percent daddy issues.

Matthew certainly has them, after all, and Elektra knows she has some of her own, even though they are more father- _figure_ issues. Small Jack seems unscathed, so far - he thinks Matthew hung the moon, in fact - but there’s still time.

It happens on one of those lazy Saturdays. The three of them had gone on an outing to a farmers market, though it was actually to scope out some drug dealers whose organic produce stall was a front for some things that Elektra and Matthew certainly didn’t want in their neighborhood.

It was Elektra’s turn, so Matthew had taken Jack to play at the park a few blocks away: far enough to keep Jack out of the fray, close enough to help if necessary. Elektra had dealt with the drug dealers and then got a wonderful deal on some kimchee two stalls down before returning to her boys.

They’d gone home and Jack went down for a nap after a usual amount of arguing. (This was what Elektra got for procreating with a lawyer.)

They know he doesn’t really nap, of course, but as long as he is quiet in his room and doesn’t make too much of a mess, they don’t care. They’re just content to stretch out together on the couch and talk about the drug dealers.

Ah, domesticity.

So, really, they can’t be blamed for being pleased when Jack’s nap goes a little longer than usual; it isn’t too foolhardy of them to imagine that he’s actually sleeping, for once. After all, he’d insisted on doing the monkey bars after the swings, and then had run around the playground area as Elektra and Matthew sat on a bench and wondered if they had ever had so much energy.

Matthew is the one who grows suspicious first, and wanders in to sweep a careful hand over Jack’s bed. He’s out of the room like a shot.

“He’s not in there. Jack,” he adds, raising his voice. “Where are you?” There is no answer, and Elektra can see the panic on his face.

“Jack!” she calls. They aren’t playing hide and seek, but just in case she calls, “Monkey farts!”

Jack picked out the code word, yes, but in this moment Elektra doesn’t care how ridiculous she sounds. She’s starting to imagine a world without her boy, and she just - she can’t do it. Her mind whites out at the very idea.

“Elektra, look. Look for him, see if - I _can’t_.”

Elektra is at his side in an instant, gripping his shoulders, shoving aside her own panic. If there’s one thing Elektra Natchios can do well, it’s compartmentalization. “Matthew, listen,” she urges, certain that he can find their son faster, if only he can pull himself out of this tailspin. “Take a breath. If he’s close, you’ll hear him.”

Matthew nods and inhales a gulping breath. Elektra can’t tell if the tremors she’s feeling are coming from her or from Matthew, and she tries to steady herself. A moment later, Matthew twitches out of her grip, though he grasps her hand bruisingly tight as he pulls her after him and into their bedroom.

“Matthew,” she protests, but, no, he continues into their walk-in closet, which is now something of a shambles. And there, the eye of the hurricane, is Jack. He’s fast asleep amidst the chaos, wrapped in a red robe that Elektra doesn’t recognize and clinging to one of the tiny dinosaurs that Foggy and Marci had given him for his last birthday.

“He’s there,” she says, half a sob, but Matthew already knows. He releases her hand to crouch down and run a careful hand along Jack’s back, as if making certain of it.

His fingers encounter the robe, and he makes a sound, not quite a laugh. “Huh.”

“Come on,” Elektra urges. “Let him sleep.” She desperately wants to hold her boy, to reassure herself that he’s really there, but she also knows that waking him so suddenly would not make for a good afternoon for any of them. One must be practical.

Matthew nods, though his fingers rest on the robe for a moment longer before he gets to his feet. “It was my father’s,” he says. “I don’t know how he found it. It was…”

He gestures to the high shelf, which neither of them can reach without a step-stool, and which must have taken some serious climbing for someone as small as Jack to get to the robe.

“Maybe we should stop going to the rock climbing gym,” Elektra says, though she knows they won’t. Instead, she takes Matthew’s hand and they walk back to the other room.

Her heart is still pounding. It’s silly; Jack was in their flat the whole time. But the thought of losing him…

“Or maybe we should get your mother to install a tracker,” she adds, only half in jest.

Matthew makes a humming noise, as if he’s considering it, but she knows they won’t do that either. “He _was_ here all along,” he says, though he sounds as if he’s trying to convince himself.

“He was,” Elektra agrees. She sits on the couch once more, and Matthew settles next to her. It seems like they both take a moment just to breathe, and Elektra at least is carefully not thinking of what could happen in the future. After all, Jack is still quite small, and is always with one of his parents or his grandmother, or at school, or with someone they trust: Foggy and Marci, who take him to the natural history museum to see the dinosaurs; Karen, who inevitably returns him exhausted and oversugared but happy; Frank, who doesn’t say much but loves Jack more than any of the rest of his found family, and will sometimes look at Jack with an expression that makes even Elektra mourn for what he has lost. He’s always with someone they trust, but the time will come when he wants independence.

For the first time, Elektra thinks seriously about training Jack. Not as she and Matthew were trained, of course, but perhaps some martial arts classes: real ones, not a McDojo, churning out black belts for all who can pay.

Jack is already growing, and far faster than Elektra likes. Wasn’t it just yesterday that he took his first staggering steps, clinging to the padded nunchaku that Danny had given him for his first birthday?

When they’d decided to have a child, Elektra had thought of sleepless nights and temper tantrums, of a baby with her eyes and Matthew’s smile and boldness enough for three children. The thought of that child growing up and leaving her…

Well. That’s the goal, isn’t it? For her and Matthew to do their job well enough that Jack can go out into the world on his own. The way their family accomplishes that looks a little different than any of the families they know, but Elektra never expected anything different. She and Matthew, after all, are not normal parents.

Matthew seems to realize that Elektra has gotten a little too into her head, as he draws her close, brushing his lips against her temple. “Hey, he’s okay. He’s fine.”

“Yes.”

Usually Elektra is the one to provide reassurance to Matthew where Jack is concerned. Matthew, wanting so much to be a good father, worries. Not that Elektra doesn’t worry. She’s just fairly certain that she and Matthew are going to do something to damage Jack, somehow. It will be unintentional, but it will still happen. That’s just parenting. But she loves that about Matthew, how hard he tries.

“Maybe it’s time to stop naps,” he suggests, though his tone implies that he will regret losing that down time.

“Yeah,” comes a delighted voice. “No more naps!”

Jack is standing in the doorway; the red robe he wears is brushing the floor.

“Hey, Jackie-boy,” Matthew greets him. “We haven’t decided anything yet.”

“I vote for no naps,” Jack persists.

“We’ll discuss it later,” Elektra says. And Jack subsides, for he knows that they will; he will be allowed to make his case in support of the no-nap proposal. Two weeks earlier, he’d included a poster in his presentation in favor of the proposed canine addition to the family. Sadly for Jack, the vote had failed in committee, due to insufficient details regarding walks.

“Mama, look,” Jack exclaims, twirling so that the robe flares like a superhero cape. He climbs into Matthew’s lap and insinuates his back under Matthew’s fingers. “See, Daddy? It’s got my name on it.”

Matthew brushes his fingers along the raised letters, and then cuddles Jack close. “It sure does. That belonged to my dad, your Grandpa Jack.”

Jack nods. He’s heard about his grandfather, of course. The older boxers at Fogwell’s have told him stories, and he’s seen the picture of Jack and Maggie when they were young, and of course Maggie herself has told stories. Once Elektra came to pick up Jack from a visit and found Matthew hovering in the hallway outside the kitchen, listening to Maggie tell Jack about his grandfather. Matthew had looked a little sheepish, but Elektra had just smiled and stayed quiet, so Matthew could hear the end of the tale.

“He wore this to the big fight, right, Daddy?”

“That’s right,” Matthew agrees, and while Jack doesn’t seem to notice the catch in his throat, Elektra does.

“Was red Grandpa Jack’s favorite color?”

“Yeah, because they can’t tell how much you’re bleeding.”

Matthew’s comment is off-hand, almost absent, but Jack’s expression suggests that he thinks this is a brilliant reason to have such a favorite. “Red’s my favorite color, too. Like Grandpa Jack.” He beams at his parents, certain they will approve, then asks, “Can I wear this to Fogwell’s, next time we go?”

Elektra sees Matthew’s small grimace and suggests, “It’s a little big for you, Jack. Maybe we can get you your own, so you don’t have to worry about tripping on it when you’re working on your footwork.”

Jack nods, seeing this as a reasonable compromise, and Elektra can just imagine the reaction from everybody at Fogwell’s to tiny Jack Murdock in a boxing robe like his grandfather’s.

“As long as it’s red. I’ll save this one for when I’m all grown up.”

Elektra can almost picture it, their boy grown tall and strong. Maybe Jack will have forgotten about the robe by then, but likely not. He is, after all, a Murdock.


End file.
